


The Maiden and the Stranger

by AdultOrphan



Series: Of Wolves and Hounds [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gregor Clegane if you squint, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6580396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdultOrphan/pseuds/AdultOrphan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Living Journal Prompt: Sansan Genre Writing Challenge-Assigned genre 2. Smut<br/>◦Starting scene: The first time Sansa and Sandor meet each other again, in the Vale.<br/>◦Event: Sandor takes part in the tournament being organised by Littlefinger.<br/>◦Optional additional suggested scene: Myranda Royce queries Sansa about what is her connection with that mysterious man.<br/>◦Optional additional suggested event: Sansa and Sandor leave The Vale together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is overdue. The deadline was about 3 weeks ago, but I was trying to hit all the points AND tell a story that made sense to me, as a one shot, as I already have two overdue works. Alas, I have failed. The Vale is a weakness for me and Petyr makes my skin crawl. It will now be a two shot or AO3 will delete this draft if I do not post it today (stupid 30 day deadline). I will clean up the editing. If you see a glaring mistakes, feel free to point them out. I have worked in so many fits and starts, that I lost some of the flow for which I was hoping.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tourney day in the Vale. Old friends meet.

Having completed the first day of the Sweet Robin's Name Day Tourney for a decent preliminary purse, Sandor and all the men who are still standing after the first day of jousting are given modest private accommodations in the castle proper for the night. They are also given their own table at the first day's feast. Sandor has been able to hide his face within the hood of his tunic. During his three joust matches he was covered by a new helm. He did plan ahead and he has a woven wool scarf to cover his face, and hoods attached to his tunics that will shroud in shadows what he cannot cover in fabric at dinner.

He is offered a hot bath in a large tub. A luxury that he has rarely enjoyed since he deserted the night the Blackwater burned. He soaks in the water with salts added until his sore leg and clenched muscles are eased. He puts on his best clothes, sewn for him for from materials gathered on the Quiet Island and crafted by area septas. The only parts of The Hound left to him are his skills, his main broadsword and his dagger. His second sword never made it off the field of fire. For all he knows it is still in the chest of some flaming, buggering Baratheon soldier at the Mud Gate.

Sandor arrives at dinner and sits on the edge of the table. He focuses on his food and does not engage in any of the idle conversations. Never one for small talk, but always a sentinel among his betters in important conversations, he watches and listens and misses nothing. One of the dozen remaining men is left hand, one is good with both hands, one is close to his size and he has faced him in other tourneys, one little boy has been gifted with a pretty face and easy opponents. He must be working with Littlefinger in some way. As he eats his listens to snippets of conversations, he finds out the large man one is involved with the girl who controls the mules. He may need that information later. The little one keeps looking at every woman in the room, but mostly at the dark haired girl with the pail skin. That girl stands to check on the guest at various tables. He notices how tall she is.

When she reaches his table she places her hand on the shoulder of the large one. The little one looks jealous. He hazards to look up into her face as she greets them all, despite having cautioned himself to avoiding all eye contact. The Hound is dead, but Sandor Clegane can still be executed for the crimes of another, laid at his feet. That look freezes him in his seat. He knows those Tully blue eyes anywhere. She averts her eyes and moves on to check on another table. Once she leaves the pretty boy brags that he is to be betrothed to Littlefinger's bastard daughter. Littlefinger has no children, which is odd for a flesh peddler. Mayhaps Lord Brandon Stark cut his ballocks off during their duel over Lady Catelyn Tully.

He stays at the table until the subjects change to bedding serving wenches. When no more useful news can be had, he stands to leave. He heads straight to his room to go to bed early, since he cannot approach the little bird while so many are around. He hangs his sword belt from the headboard and places his dagger under his pillow, then strips down to his small clothes and crawls under the linens and furs.

As he settles into the bed, he feels something is out of sorts. The room smelled different from when he left it. The chambermaids would have been in to remove the tub, but he should not still sense their presences. He closes his eyes to allows he other senses to take over. His hand joins his dagger under the pillow and he holds his breath for a minute and listens. He hears shallow breaths under the bed and a rapid heartbeat is causing the floor to hum and reverberate through his bed. He begins breathing deeply to feign sleep. He will lay still and wait for them to alight from the depths under his bed. Half an hour later he hears a soft scuffling from under the bed. He turns his head toward the side from which the sound emanates and waits. The bad side of his face is buried in the pillow, his eyes closed.

He can hear the rustling of skirts, silks. He can feel eyes on him, most likely Tully blue. He sits up and flips the intruder onto the bed faster than she can register what has happed. Only responding with an audible gasps as he holds his dagger to her throat. "Little bird, you should not be in a man's bedroom. Especially mine."

"I knew it was you. They said you were dead. Though I took to my bed and cried for days, I knew you could not be dead. Have you come to take me away?"

"I tried to save you the night the water and air burned. You wanted Stannis to save you Lady Lannister." A single tear rolls down her cheek. Sandor puts the dagger away, out of her reach. "Don't cry. I won't hurt you"

"You already have. You took a kiss and a song from me and you left me behind for the Lannisters to marry me off to Tyron; and now Littlefinger plans to marry me to Harry the Heir."

"How can you marry again. No one knows where the Imp is, or if he is even alive.

"He was never my husband in truth. He never touched me. He was in love with my handmaiden and let me be." Sandor gets off of her, allowing her to sit up.

"Tyrion does love whores. Unless your claim is proven and your marriage annulled, you will stay Lady Lannister. The song you gave me was not the song I wanted, know that; but what are you on about with this kiss nonsense?"

"You were drunk, you just do not remember kissing me."

"No amount of wine would erase that. I never kissed you, girl."

"No, you demanded the song I had promised, I placed my hand on your scarred cheek and gave you a different song. You kissed me then you left me with only your bloody cloak." He looks her in the eye and sees no lie there, but why is she so confused.

"I would have died a happy man had I kissed you that night, but it didn't happen Sansa. Mayhaps it was you who drank too much.

"No, no, no. You kissed me." With that he pulls her into his lap and kisses her. The little bird is caught in the cage of his arms. His left hand cups the back of her head. His right is in the middle of her back. Since she keeps talking about some kiss that never happened, he kisses her in truth. She pushes against the steel muscles of his chest to get free, but neither her strength nor her will can withstand him. She slides her hands up his chest and around his neck. His hand fists her hair. His right hand slides down her back and over her arse. She tries to speak, but the breach of her lips only allows him in, and her moan only impassions him to deepen the kiss further, before he abruptly stops and pulls away.

"Is that the kiss you remember little bird?"

"No. It was more like this," she kisses him on the lips again. More than chaste, but far less heated then the one he gave.

"Who else have you been kissing, girl? That last kiss is not one I give. On the rare occasion that I get to kiss a woman, I take my money's worth on both sets of lips." She blushes and her face heats up. Thanks to talks with Myranda, she understands what he means.

"I have kissed no one; but Littlefinger and Harry sometimes will force kisses on me that I do not like."

"Real kisses or imagined?"

"Real. I do not know why I imaged you kissing me."

"Would you like another real one before you leave."

"Yes, but I cannot leave until dawn. I came in before the night guards left the feast. I did not expect you to be back so soon. Now they will be in the hallways until they break their fasts."

"Why are you in my room in the first place?"

"I saw you at dinner and I though you were not real, or at least not really you. I was looking for something to know the truth of it."

"Did you find anything little bird?"

"I recognize the dagger you just held at my neck, but it was not in your room when I was looking. It was on your person. Do you mind if I share your bed, my lord?"

"You and your damned courtesies. Do you really have to ask? Let me help with your dress." He turns her away from him on his lap and begins untying her dress. "Won't they miss you?"

"No, I frequently sleep with either Mya or Myranda. Sometimes we all share a bed."

"Fuck."

"What? Is there a knot?"

"No. You wouldn't understand."

"Here, I am treated like a bastard. I know more than a high born maid should."

"Tell me then, what I was thinking?"

"I do-not know for sure, but it involves bedding." He laughs quietly at that.

"That it does." He pulls her dress open abruptly and slides his hands over her shoulders to push the sleeves down and frees her arms and hands. "Stand." Sansa does as she is bid. He slides the dress down her waist and hips and past her legs until it pools on the floor. She steps out of it and bends down to pick it up. The little bird's arse is facing him as she retrieves her gown from the floor. He wants to grab it and bite it, but resists. He will not use her as a bed warmer. She places her dress over a chair by the fireplace, and adds another small log to the fire, while she is there. The light now shining through her shift renders it shear, displaying her womanly curves. "Anything else I can help you remove little bird?"

"I can take my stockings off myself. Thank you, my lord."

"You are about to share my bed. I think you can call me Sandor."

"No one is supposed to know you are alive. I cannot put you at risk. You are all I have left."

He looks, at her in light of that bold statement. He folds the other side of the bedding back for Sansa. She sits and rolls her stockings down, and throws them over the headboard. "I have some news of your sister, little bird."

"No. Please don't. I cannot take anymore death on the day I find you alive."

"I last saw her six moons ago. She was still very much alive and she passed on the chance to kill me, as I lay dying from a fever."

"Where is she?" Sansa is crying again.

"Don't cry. I think she was headed to Braavos. She talked of learning to water dance and training to kill all your family's enemies. She's a tough one, that one is. Get in bed. Sleep." She lies down and he covers them both. "You have me now and we will find your sister." She looks up at him and smiles again.

"You will help me."

"Aye. Come here." He pulls her against him and strokes her back. She stops crying and relaxes against him. "Pack what you need to take with you tomorrow, warm clothes, riding boots, heavy cloak. We leave after the tournament. We'll need the prize money and anything else you can gather for travel. There will be a lot of confusion and people leaving. We will get lost in the crowd. Grab hard cheese, cured and dried meats and bread from the kitchen. Apples if you have them. Now sleep. We need to be well rested for the morrow. I came for the prize money and we cannot leave without it." She attempts to sleep, as he bade, but she was too excited. She looks up at his face and sees he is not sleeping either.

"I cannot sleep, my lord. Tell me about how you found my sister." He does and then briefly tells her about his stay on the Quiet Island. She works up the courage to ask, "Would you kiss me again?"

"Be careful what you ask a man in his bed, little bird. Go to sleep." He closes his eyes and tries to let his blood cool. Her asking for a kiss while his is holding her, smelling her hair is a fool's errand. He rolls away from her and wills himself to sleep, Thankful he is so exhausted.

Sandor is in the middle of the best dream of his life. His little bird's lips are on his chest. He can feel her warm breath on his skin and her tongue tasting him as she kisses his collar bone. Her delicate hand is resting on his hard cock, squeezing it through his small clothes. He grabs her hand and slides it inside his small clothes and guides it up and down his length. Then he realizes something is not right about this dream. He eyes shoot open and he is looking at the crown of her head and a blanket of long hair across his chest. He removes his hand and she continues stoking him, almost to his completion. Then he pulls her hand away, mindful of the quiet of the night, he pulls her up and whispers in her ear, "What are you doing, Sansa? Do you want me to make you Lady Lannister in truth?"

"I have already passed the septas' examination. Lord Baelish has applied for the annulment with the High Septon. I can-"

"-let me have you?" he whispers. "Why?"

"Because I have dreamed of you every night since you left me. In my dreams you were always the answer to my prayers to the old gods."

"I left. I did not leave you. Is this a trick? You will not scream out for help?

"No my lord. Did you ever dream of me?" He lays her back on the bed, and looks her in the eye in the dim fire and moon light of the room.

"Aye. I'm dreaming of you even now." He kisses her as passionately as the first time. His tongue slips into her mouth, where it meets hers. He rests on one arm and hovers over her barely touching her. If it is a dream, he does not want to fully wake. If it is real, he does not want to scare her. He pulls away from her mouth and kisses down her neck. He slides her shift up with his free hand, savoring the feel of her warm, soft skin as he advances the shift over her hips and up her sides. He pulls it over her head, but since it is still tied at the back, it gets stuck on her head. She has to laugh as she is plunged into complete darkness and fumbles for the ties. His patience at an end, he rips the ties and yanks a few hairs with it, before she is freed. She yelps in pain. "Sorry, little bird. I didn't mean to pluck your feathers." He kisses her head to sooth her tender scalp.

"I have plenty left." She deposits the shift to the side. When she sees his eyes are focused on her naked breasts, she places her arms over her exposed chest for modesty. He focuses back on her face and then unfolds her arms, not ungently. He places her hands on his shoulder and lays her back on the bed. He kisses her forehead, then he uses his knees to spread her thighs open and he lowers his body into the cradle of her. He beings kissing the swell of her breasts. He licks, then sucks on her hardening left nipple. He moves back up to look into her eyes. She smiles at him and moves her right hand to her scarred left cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into her gentle touch. Gods, he could love her. She makes him want to believe in all the gods, old and new, and serve them to keep her safe; get her home to what family they can piece together.

One of his hands slides between them and touches her small clothes between her legs. "So fucking wet," he says more to himself than her. He then unties both sides of her small clothes, and slides them off. He settles his hips back down between her legs and studies her beautiful face in the dim light. While he is lost in her Tully blue eye, his hips move against her of their own volition. His is not sure whether the moisture his feels is from her or from him. He can feel his cock is leaking. He pulls his hips back and pushes his small clothes down onto his thighs. As he is lowering himself back between Sansa warm thighs, she places her hands on his hips to halt him. He hopes she has not changed her mind. He cannot take himself in hand with her in his room.

Sansa, uses her feet to push his small clothes down to his calves, which is as far as she can reach. Very unladylike, but bastard strong. "My lord, it is only fair that we are equally undressed." Sandor rolls his eyes, but he pushes them down the rest of the way.

"Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell in bed with The Hound. I could die after this and be a happy man."

"I am frequently in bed with a hound."

"Who the fuck else has been using my name?"

"It is an actual hound dog that sometimes sleeps in my bed on cold nights."

"Then I guess I shall let him live. Once I claim you, you are mine. This is your last chance to save your maidenhead for your buggering knight with the pretty face."

"Let Littlefinger fuck him, I want you."

"Seven hells, when did you start swearing, little bird?

"Here I am a bastard. I can even give my maidenhead to The Hound in place of a favor."

"I still expect a favor, little bird. Mayhaps, I will keep one of your stockings." He kisses her soundly and lines the head of his cock up with her dripping cunt. Gods give him strength not to hurt her, but a man has only so much restraint. "Are you ready little bird?" He looks her in the eye in the dim light. She bites her swollen bottom lip and nods her head 'yes'. He takes that as an invitation and pulls her lip between his and sucks on it, then bites it, lightly. He's dreamed of just this for years. It is better than his dreams. She tastes sweet and he can feel her racing pulse throbbing between his lips.

He releases her lip and slides up just a bit, then thrusts hard into her in one solid stroke that buries him to his balls. His arse cheeks are taut as he holds still until she can relax around him. He had never been contained in anyone so tight. "Breath little bird. The first time hurts. Try to relax. She slides her hands from his hips to his arse cheeks. She takes several breaths and nods that she is ready to continue what they started. He slowly pulls halfway out, and then snaps his hips back into hers. He finds a steady rhythm that is too slow for him and may be too fast for her, but at least he will not spill his seed immediately, like a green boy. Fuck, he realizes he will need to pull out of her before that happens.

He looks down on her and slides out as far as he can without slipping out, so that he can bow his back enough to reach her lips. His tongue invades her mouth and she brazenly sucks on his tongue. One of her hands is now buried in his hair as they kiss. He kisses down her neck. He has to slip out of her to kiss the swell of her breast. He licks her hard nipple before he takes it fully in his mouth and sucks on her. He moves to the other breast. His right hand slides to her abandoned breast and squeezes it, circles his thumb over her nipple, while he sucks on the other. His hand then slides down her side and to her cunt finding the pearl men talk about at the top of it. She whimpers at his touch. He strokes her with his thumb, while she holds him to her breast. He scraps his teeth over her nipple. He kisses his way back up her neck to her mouth. He uses her hot wetness to stroke his cock before he slips back into her cunt. Her sounds break his restraints, and he does not hold back. He trusts into her with abandon while looking her in the eyes. His right hand returns to stroking her cunt. She closes her eyes as she nears her completion.

"Look at me." She does. Moments later she has her first release and pulls him close to ride out this new and overwhelming feeling. He can feel her cunt milking his cock as he continues to stroke into her. When he feels he is moments away from spilling his seed, he pulls out of her and allows his seed to pump out of him onto the linens. He moves off of her and over to her side. He pulls her against him. "Sleep. We leave after the tourney prizes are awarded. Get your things to Stranger's stall. He is all the way in the back. Just throw them over the gate, he bites.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sansa wakes up to a pitch black room next to her sleeping giant. She is facing away from him, and yet he still surrounds her. She is wrapped in him; his masculine scent, his strength, and his lust. His manhood is hard again, even in slumber, and it is pressed to her back like his dagger once was to her neck. She has not gotten the chance to see it or touch it for more than a few moments. Tentatively, she reaches between them and wraps her fingers around the warm pulsing length of him. She beings stroking him up and down. After a few moments his begins thrusting into her hand. He whimpers a 'little bird' and she snatches her hand away at being caught. She pushes her Sansa embarrassment down, and lets her bastard strength take over. She presses her arse into his groin. He rolls on top of her, pinning her face down on his bed. His legs on either side of hers.

"Ever hear the old saying, 'Let sleeping dogs lie.'?" as he grinds his hard cock against her mound from behind.

"Yes, but a hound will die for you and never lie to you", she hisses.

"You have japes. Now I have to show you what dogs do to wolves, Lady Stark," he whispers into her ear. He strokes up her slit and finds to his satisfaction that she is wet. He wonders if her dreams were like his, hungry and bawdy. He slides into her slowly, then pulls out almost completely, and dives in again. He digs his hand under her and begins stroking the sensitive bud that is just inside the top of her wet lips. He steadily builds up speed with stroking her and stroking into the core of her. He whispers in his ear. "Sing for my little bird. Give me my song again. I want to feel you." She begins pushing back against him. It is almost more than he can take. Almost, but he wants more still, for she is the only reason he values life. She is the one for which he will fight. She is the territory into which he has planted his flag. "Sing," he grunts.

"Sandor," was her response when she reaches her pleasure. He pauses his trusting so he can feel her cunt contract around his cock, but he wants more, needs more. He pulls away from her, picks her up to puts her on all fours. He takes her hands puts them up against the wall beyond the headboard. He moves behind her and grabs onto the headboard with his left hand and his cock with his right. He strokes himself a few times before he plunges back into her dripping cunt. His right hand moves to her round left teat; his arm holding her torso to him. This is the single best fuck of his life. He wanted to keep going until daybreak, but holding out much longer was impossible.

"You have unmanned me, little bird," he breathes out with his lips resting on her ear. Her only response is to release her hands from the wall and wrap them around the back of his neck and arch herself into him. That unleashes a torrent of suppressed lust in him that drives his hips against her arse with the force of his insatiable need for her. The sounds of their flesh meeting, their panting, her mumbling words that were a language all her own. He grunts with each thrust, the wet sound of their union; drove him on. His mind and body were not his own, they were hers, she was his. The next conscious moment he has is her cunt contracting around his cock again, a flood of fluids, then his own release roared out. He never got the chance to pull out of her before he spilled his seed. Sansa melts against the wall and his dissolves against her. They stay like this until they can both move. First he lays down, then he pulls her down with him. She begins to chirp excitedly, about what he could not decipher, while he drifts off back into a peaceful sleep.

Sansa could not even be offended. Her champion, her non-knight needs to save some strength to win the prize money. The money meant her freedom, and their safe travels. She stroked his hair as he sleeps. Examines his body in the pre-dawn light. She even pulls back the covers enough to see his manhood for the first time. It is large to be sure, but as she watches it, it grows to proportions that defied logic and reason. She realizes that she had been impaled repeatedly by this hot pike, and she would do it again, and again.

The quiet of the hallways outside his bedroom tells her she has half an hour to get out before the guards came back. She dresses in haste and sees that her stockings are stuck under his head. She dares not search the bed for her small clothes. She slips on her sheath and dress. She uses her hair to cover her untied bodice and carried her shoes to travel more quickly and quietly. Sansa makes it safety to her room, just ahead of her chambermaid, who heralds in the arrival of the hot water and help with her bath.

Sansa could not risk her seeing the blood on her thighs or her now filthy feet. "Could you get the new heavy wool dress out for me. It is too cool for the new silk one. I will save it for diner. I will be getting ready with Myranda for dinner. I will not need help after the tourney."

"Yes, milady. Let's get you bathed."

"Actually would you bring me food to break my fast and pack enough food for Lady Myranda, Mya and I for lunch in the stands. It will save me time so that I may helping my father with the tourney." The maid leaves and Sansa bolts the door. She quickly starts to pack her warmest clothes, jewelry, any coin see has tucked away, her hidden Stark heritage under the bed with her summer silk. She take her direwolf pin, the hankie she received after Ser Meryn Trant split her lip and the singed white, blood stained cloak cast off from a deserting Hound. Once her bags are packed she hides them under the bed. She does not have time to wash her hair and get it to dry, plus she notices it smells a bit of him. She would not wash it out, even if she had time. She pins her hair up on top of her head. She gets in the now lukewarm bath and begins to scrub the evidence of her coupling away.

When the maid returns Sansa asks her to, "Just set it outside the door. I am still in the bath. Their are so many strangers about, I bolted the door. Could you go send for Mya for me. Thank you." After she leaves she gets out of the bath and quickly dries off and puts on a dressing gown. She pulls the food bag and plate of food in and hides the bagged food. She brushes out her hair and pulls the front into a bun at her crown. She dresses herself and leaves the ties for later.

The maid returns and Sansa lets her in. "I think someone passing by took the bag of food. I only found the plate. Could you please bring me another?" The maid rushes out to fulfill the request. Shortly after Mya arrives. Sansa has her tie her gown and asks her to take the bags to the guest stable. "The giant black horse at the end. Drop these bags in the stall."

"The evil horse?"

"Yes, that one. Throw an apple to him first to distract him, and throw a blanket over the bags, if you can." Mya looks at her suspiciously, but takes the bags and heads out. When the maid returns with the new bag of food, Sansa thanks her profusely and gives her the rest of the day off to make up for the extra trouble. The maid smiles and heads out before her mistress can change her mind.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The joust is the first event. Harry the Heiry Arse, as Myranda called him, is out on the first tilt. After the elimination rounds, the unnamed knight and Lothor Brune are the final two. They ran for the best two out of three tilts, but only two tilts are needed. The unnamed knight wins the first two. He takes his ride around the winner's circle. The final three finisher are giving prize money before they head to the stables, and everyone else heads to lunch.

Sandor rinses off Stranger and brushes him down while the grooms tend to his tack and saddle. He packs his saddle bags and adds Sansa's bags and sets them in Strangers stall before he pulls him back in to guard them. The men from the joust clean up before they eat lunch and are allowed to rest before the remaining events. First is archery and a Vale of Arryn favorite, hawking. The melee is last. Several of the men yield early when they see the two largest men, the mystery knight and Brune, are pairing up. Once they are the last two standing, they turn on each other. It takes several minutes of battle before Brune finally yields. Brune realizes his opponent was not going to give up, and the money was not worth death. Once the mystery knight is crowned the tourney champion by Lord Robert Arryn, since Lord Baelish is oddly absent, and the grand prize is handed over; he is given a white rose crown to name his Queen of Love and Beauty. He looks over the crowd and finds the girl he wants to crown. It is the 'daughter' of the missing host of the event. It seems the politically smart thing to do. Plus, he gets a pretty blush from her. It is a good thing the lord himself is missing from the event. He might be motivated to give the winner a closer look.

He heads off to his room to quickly wash dirt, sweat and other people's blood off and put on fresh clothes and pack the last of his belongings. He is almost done packing when someone knocks on his door. He knows the little bird knows better than to come to his room during the day. He pulls his hood over his head and stomps to the door and snatches it open. A page is standing two hands below his eye level.

"Ser, Lord Baelish would like the pleasure of your company in his solar. I shall escort you there, if you will follow me."

"Aye." He figures fighting is fruitless when he does not know what he is fighting. Baelish was not at the tourney today, so he probably just wants to congratulate the winner. If it is anything else, he can fight his way out. He adds his dagger to his sword belt before he leaves with the page.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Littlefinger spent the day scrambling in response to a raven message. What is it that Sansa always says, 'Dark wings, dark words.' He thinks he has heard that many years before. The matter was of such an urgent matter that he had to miss the final day of the tourney he organized. One if his little spiders in the capital sent a raven that Ser Robert Strong of the Kingsguard is in route to the Vale, with men that used to ride with the Mountain and a legion of Lannister men. He knew that applying for Sansa's annulment in her real name would be dangerous, but using a false name would render it worthless. The High Septon had been paid for his silence, but news came of late that the High Septon had been replaced with the High Sparrow. He could no longer pay the Septon in whores for his confidence.

He is arranging transit for he and Sansa. They will have to head to Dorne until the annulment is final. He can join Sansa with the power of the Vale and in time lay claim to the North, and then the Continent. Once the annulment is final, Sansa can be married to Harry in absencia. Then he will no longer need to guard his 'daughter's' virtue, and he will claim a piece Catelyn for himself.

He has been spending the entire day gathering his resources, writing messages, arranging for the continued care of his holdings, and a guardian for Lord Robert. He cannot travel fast with a sickly child and he must live until he can marry Sansa to Harry. If Harry inherits before that, he gains the Vale outright and may choose to marry higher than Alayne the bastard. Sweet Robin is his wedge against that. He will tell Sansa after the dinner, he cannot tip his hand by missing both his tourney and the celebration feast.

He anticipates the attackers will come overland from the capital and be on his tail all the way south. Neither he nor Sansa are good enough riders to outpace a small army. Therefore, they will take a boat south, through the Narrow Sea, to the Sea of Dorne. He has to line up a safe house for them and protection in Dorne. That is one more raven to send out to the Second Sons for their steel. Now he worries they cannot leave for several days to wait for the responses. That will cut into his already shaky sennight lead, but leaving without set plans is running blindly into unknown dangers. He will hire the tourney champion to travel with them. He just realizes he does not even know who won. The feast starts in less than one hour. He will find out before then and approach him for the bargain. With enough money and you can solve almost any problem, acquire anything you lack, except love and more time.

Lord Baelish sends a page to bring him the tourney winner. He plans to pay him well for his protection until they reach Dorne. When the giant arrives Lord Baelish has him sit to not feel so overpowered. He wastes no time to get to the point, "I am at a disadvantage. I know nothing about you, save for your fighting skills. I need to leave for the south in several days with my daughter. We need protection. Are you available for hire? The stranger nods affirmatively. "Money is not a problem. You are probably the only man besides the dead Lannister Hound that can handle what is coming my way."

"And what is that?"

"The Mountain." The only sign that the name registers with giant is the tightening of his grip on the arms of the undersized chair he is wedged into."

"Gregor Clegane is dead."

"His soul may be in the seven hells, but his body rides this way in the form of kingsguard Ser Robert Strong."

"Why?"

"I am not in the habit of explaining to the help."

"I am not your help, and if you hire my services, I am still not your help." With that Sandor lowers his hood and grey eyes face shocked green eyes.

"Hound. You are reported dead."

"I was near Saltpans, but only my helm made it there. I have raped no one. Why is the Queen after you?"

"They want my daughter."

"I have never heard rumors of you having a daughter, but I will protect Lady Sansa from the Lannisters."

"You recognized her of course, and yet you said nothing. Always sitting in the background watching and listening. I am surprised the lady did not recognize you."

"She had other things on her mind. She probably tries to forget her stay in her golden cage and her gaolers. Two thousand golden dragons, and I will see her safe to Dorne."

"What of me?"

"Stay by her side and you will stay safe too. How long do we have?" He holds his hand out for payment. "I expect my payment up front. I know you too well." Littlefinger squints and him, but realizes he is at The Hound's mercy. He pulls out a bag of gold and weighs out the substantial sum, before handing it over.

"The Lannister men could be here in a sennight. I don't have exact information on their departure time and route.

"I will find her and tell her. You have much to do. Prepare the ship we leave tonight for the port. My brother rights fast and hard. He will drive the men and horses hard."

"I have to wait here for responses from my ravens. I need a couple of days."

"Then you will have to follow us or have the messages forwarded to a port."

"I cannot trust others with these details. I will arrange a ship with instructions to leave in four days. It will take that long to get to the port city. I will meet you in Dorne." Sandor rises and hides the coins in his tunic and covers his face before opening the door. He heads to the grand hall to look for 'Littlefinger's daughter' or get information on where he can find her. He see Lady Myranda Royce and asks her.

"Have you seen Lord Baelish's-daughter? He has hire me as her personal shield."

"I am sure she is in her room dressing for the feast in your honor. I will show you there." She leads him to the family wing of the castle. She knocks on the door once they stop. "Alayne it's Randa. I have your champion shield here to meet you." Scraping and shuffling can be heard on the other side of the door. A few moments later the door opens, and a flush faced Alayne greets them.

"My lady, Lord Baelish has hired me to guard you in your travels." She looks at him like he has sprouted two dragon head and all three heads have lost their collective minds.

She allows him in her room and thanks Randa for showing him to her room. As she tries to close the door, Randa blocks it from closing and looks questioning at Alayne. "Randa could you go check on the preparations for the feast? I will be down shortly."

"Are you certain? Where are you going?"

"Yes, thank you. My father's travel plans are news to me. I will share the details with you over dinner." This time Randa allows Alayne to close the door. She waits a few seconds to make sure that Randa had time to move out of ear short, then pulls Sandor further into the room. "What does my father know?"

"Littlefucker is not your father, little bird. You need to finish packing. We are taking a ship for Dorne tonight after the feast."

"I do not understand."

The High Septon, High Sparrow, whatever the fuck he calls himself, has disclosed of the annulment paperwork. Lannister troops are headed here.

"No", she collapses into the seat of her a dressing vanity. She looks up at Sandor with tears forming in her eyes. Sandor walks over to her and kneels before her and takes her hands.

"Please don't cry. They have to be a sennight away, mayhaps more."

"Perhaps less. Do we know when they left?"

"No. Pack. I'll help. Do you have any ribbons?" He releases her hands.

"You already won the tourney. It is a little late for a favor."

"I already have your stocking tied under my tunic. I need to tie a dagger to your leg. For emergencies." She turns toward her dressing vanity and opens the drawer.

"Your dagger is to big for me to handle."

"You worked quite well with my 'dagger' last night, little bird."

She turns on him in a huff and with hands several ribbons. "You makes japes while the Lannister's hunt for my head."

"They have a price on my head as well, and my once dead brother rides at the front of the Lannister forces."

"Gregor? No."

"Now lift your skirts."

"What?"

"Dagger."

"Oh, yes."

"I pilfered a smaller one from Littlefinger's office while he was counting out coin. Lift. I think it would be best on your outer right calf." She lifts her skirt just to the ankle and he gives her a look, squinting his eyes at her. "Higher." He make quick work of attaching the sheathed, delicate dagger to her delicate lower leg. He looks up at her once he is satisfied with her work. She moves the hair away that has fallen into his face, and strokes her fingers through his hair. He slides his hand up her leg until he is clear of her stocking and strokes the silky skin of her thigh. "Little bird, I promise to keep you safe. I once told you no one will hurt you, or I will kill them. That is true until I draw my last breath."

"You still remember. I regret not leaving with you. I was afraid."

"I'm sorry I scared you the night the water burned. Fuck, and every other night I hurt you with my harsh truths." His thumb smoothing circles into the warm skin of her thigh, until he encounters moisture, then smells the musk of her. He sides his second hand under her skirts. "We don't have time to waste, but this is the last we will be alone for a time. I have to have a taste of you little bird." With that he unties her small clothes and pulls them out from under her. He pushes Sansa back so that she is leaning back against her vanity and he pushes the front her skirts up over her hips. He grabs her left leg and slides it over his shoulder. He uses his left thumb and index finger to spread her lips open and his mouth joins with her moist, fragrant lower lips. His tongue circles the hard, swollen flesh at the top. He takes it between his lips and sucks on it. Sansa gasps and grips onto his hair. At first he thinks that she is going to pull him away, but she actually locks him in place and starts moving against his mouth.

His right hands grips the warm, soft flesh of are naked arse cheeks, taking control of her movements against him until they learn each other's rhythms. He is rewarded with a flood of moisture coating his mouth. He drinks her in like he used to suck from wine skins, but she make him more intoxicated. He could stay as such for hours, but his cock is crying out for the tight wetness of her. It is weeping for her. He removes his right hand from the round pillow of her arse and unties his breeches and pulls his hard throbbing cock out and gives in three firm slow strokes. He pulls his mouth away from her cunt and removes his hands from her skirt. He stands to his full heights and take her with him. Her hands still tangled in his hair. He licks her essence off his lips as he looks into her eyes. She gasps and starts to breath even heavier. He looks down at her full breasts heaving out of her bodice. He looks back at he face and turns her around. Her hands still locked in his hair and now her arms are twisted at the wrists. He pushes her torso over the vanity, not ungently, and rucks up the back of her skirts. He takes himself in hand and slides the dripping tip up and down her slit. He reminds himself of their lack of time and the lack of a locked door. He slides into her in one hard thrust, while lookin into her eyes in the mirror affixed to the wall behind the vanity. Her eyes close and her head drops against the mirror. His left hand holds onto her hip, while his right hand continues around to her cunt as he finds his rhythm. It slips over her mound, through her curls and to the top of her slit. He strokes her pearl in time with his thrust. The sound of his thighs and hips slipping against her arse makes his balls draws up and his growls at the surge of rising lust.

He brings his lips to her ears. His chest against her slender back. He does not whisper into her ear, for he cannot form words, just grunts and moans and panting breaths. It is enough to communicate his hunger for her, it feeds into her need for him. She begins pushing back against him and he has to put his left hand over her mouth to keep her song all to himself, for his ears only. She does sing a sweet tune for him and contracts around his swollen length. It sends him over the edge before he can pull out of her depths. He is so lost in her that he is dizzy.

She finally lets go of his hair and slides down the mirror collapsing on the vanity. Sandor grinds his groin against her arse a few moments longer, savoring the warm, wet, tightness of her, before he allows his cock to slip out of her. He steps back and looks down on her firm round arse and pink dripping cunt glistening in the dying light. He wants more of her, but he tucks himself back in his pants. He retrieves a clean cloth and dips it in cool water. He stands her up and smoothes it over her flushed face. Then he kneels down between her spread legs and cleans his spilt seed from her thighs and cunt. He once again has the urge to take a bite out of her while he is staring at her arse. He instead places a kiss their. He leaves a wet spot there. He has once again marked her as his.

Once they have both recovered and righted themselves, he has her gather more of her things now that they are taking a boat instead of horse. He drags the overly heavy chest to the door. Just then there is a single knock at the door before it opens. Sandor has just enough time to get his hood up before Myranda Royce shows herself in.

"Alayne are you ready for the feast? Ser Champion, you are the guest of honor. The other winners are waiting on you."

"He is not a ser, Randa. My lord, please go to your feast. I am almost done packing. Thank you for your assistance." He bows and take his leave.

Randa turns on Alayne, "What have you been doing your hair is a mess and you are sweaty."

"Packing for a trip my father just sprung on me. My new shield was helping."

"I'm sure he was. Is that why the room smells like sex?"

"No! What does that even smell like?"

"Like him, like you. You are lucky it was me, and not your father or Harry at the door. You should remove your discarded small clothes from the floor before anyone else comes in."

Sansa gasps and dives under the vanity to get her still wet small clothes. "Please, please, please do not say anything to anyone. Blood will be shed if anyone finds out."

"I will say nothing, but what is it about him that succeeded when even the fair Heir has failed to turn your head?"

"I knew him before I came to the Vale. He saved my life in my previous home."

"Did you take precautions? Did he spill in you?"

"Yes, twice."

"I will serve you moon tea at the feast. No one will know."

"No, I could never. The gods' wills be done."


	2. The Boat to Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The escape from the Mountain, over a mountain.

They get through the winners' feast without incident. Sansa turns in early and shortly after her new shield leaves the feast. They meet in her room and grab the last of her important things, leaving the trunks and crate for others to bring to the boat. It is a two day ride to Longbow Hall and another full day to the port from there. It would take another day or two for the crate and trunks to arrive; even longer for Littlefucker. Sandor will most likely take off as soon as the boat is ready, with or without Baelish. He only promised to protect Littlefinger, if he stayed close to Sansa. Baelish made his choice, he will have to live or die with it.

He arranges the transport for the trunks in the morning, and takes an already tired Sansa to the stables. She bristles at having to ride a horse in the dark. He consoles her with telling her they will trail her horse behind Stranger and she could ride with him until she has rested. He could not chance Littlefucker changing his mind and both he and Sansa getting trapped with Lannister forces, and his twice damned brother coming to claim the prizes on both their heads.

He adds the small bags they brought with them on Sansa's horse and moves the bags already on Stranger to her horse. He then ties the horse to Stranger on a long rope. He lifts Sansa into the saddle and climbs up behind her. He pulls her snuggly between his thighs and wraps her in the warmth of his cloak, then sets Stranger into motion. They next thing Sansa is aware of is being pulled from a height and held securely against something warm. She blinks her eyes open and is looking at the chest of Sandor Clegane. She winds her arms around his neck and nestles further against him. An audible purr rumbles from her chest. Sandor thanks the gods, which he does not believe in, that her skirts cover the hardness in his manhood. He was half hard during most of the ride. Having her wrapped around him, purring in his arms completes his uncomfortable condition.

He asks the inn keeper for their best room and tells him he will pay once he get her settled in the room and grabs his bags. He returns to the stables after settling the little bird in a nest of wool blankets on the bed. He situates both horses in stalls after removing their saddles and tack. He makes sure that they both have hay and fresh water, then takes their bags back into the inn. He pays the keeper and requests a food tray and skin of wine be brought up now and a bath be brought up in the morning before they bring the meal at sunrise.

He wakes the little bird after the food arrives and forces her to eat something. She picks at the buttered bread and has a few spoonfuls of vegetable soup and a chicken wing, leaving the rest of the whole chicken and soup for him. "You are a wolf, but you eat like a little bird."

"That is because I am your little bird."

"Come here girl." He turns he around and unties her dress. He swats her on the arse and sends her toward the bed, not ungently. She undress herself instead of him doing it. He eats as he watches her undress, licking the juice of the chicken from his lips as he enjoys the sight of her. She is the reason the gods created eyes and lips and... She crawls under the covers and he finishes off the meal and sets the tray outside their door. He washes the grease from his hands and uses the privy. He decides to wash a few more things while he was at it. He strips naked and washes thoroughly. He puts on clean small clothes. When he gets to the bed, the little bird is blissfully sleep. He stands there and looks down on her. His blood heated and pumping hard. He grabs the wine skin from the table and sits on the bed with his back her. It will be hard for him to sleep with his blood up like this. One wine skin is more like than not to only inflame his need. He takes one more swig and caps the skin and sets it on the bedside table.

He blows out his candle and climbs under the covers. Once his eyes adjust to the darkness, he is laying on his back staring at the ceiling. His field of vision includes the tent his cock makes under his bedding. He turns away from his little bird. Out of sight, still on his mind. Fuck. He decides to take himself in hand while his back is to her. He is lost in his thoughts of his night inside Sansa, and he can imagine her voice calling out to him. The thought almost makes him reach his completion, then he feels a hand on his shoulder and he hears his name again. Not his imagination, it is his little bird chirping at him. He freezes instantly, and turns to face her. He is shocked that her face is mere inches from his. How long has she been hovering there watching him. He removes his hand from his cock and turns to face her. He can feel a shudder travel through her body, or maybe it is his own body that betrays him.

"Did I wake you girl?"

She gives him a breathy, "Yes." Then her lips inexpertly find his. She slips her hand over his chest and he savors the warmth of her light touch. He can feel her tasting him, exploring his mouth. He decides to lay back and relax. He road her to safety half of the night after two days of competition. Let the little bird find the wolf inside her. He can show her how to lead. He is curious to see what wolves can do to hounds. He slips his hand down her hip and over her thigh. He slides her thigh over his hip and shifts her so that she straddles him, as he deepens their kiss.

His hips start moving against hers. His exposed cock rubbing against her through her small clothes. He moves his hands on her firm arse to guide her to a steady rhythm. "Are you sore from yesterday?"

"A little, but my need of you is the greater pain." She reaches down to grip the hem of her shift to remove it as she sits up. Sandor's hands move to her breasts, causing her to hiss as his thumbs brush over the hard peaks of her nipples. She cups her hands over his. One would know how strong he is just from feeling his hands. As strong as he is, he is never ungentle with her. Sansa pushes his hand down, which at first he takes as rejection. She settles his hands on her hips. Her own hands roam up his abdomen to his chest, where they settle on the hard planes of him.

They just look into each other's eyes for a few moments, but need moves them past that unspoken connection, and Sandor's fingers deftly find the ribbons of her small clothes and he unburdens her, and drops them by his pillow. Gods, he can smell her heat on them. He thrusts his hips up, lifting them both so he can push his small clothes down his thighs. He exhaustion of less than half an hour ago has passed. He is fully aroused in every way possible, in body and mind. He feels a warm moisture on his lower abdomen. He is not sure if it comes from him or her or a mixture of both of their arousals.

A strangled, "Ride me," comes from him. He lifts her up from him by her hips and grabs his hard cock with one hand. He rubs the dripping tip against her wet slit. He stops at her opening and moves his hand back to her hip as he pushes her down the length of him. He pushes his hips up to meet her. He gives her a few moments to get used to the intrusion of him. With her looking him in the eyes as she is perched atop his cock, he begins guiding her up and down his length. She slump down over him and rest her head forehead on his chest, as she work on finding her rhythm.

"Sansa look at me." She lifts her head and looks him in the eyes. "Do you want to stay with me? To be mine and me be yours?" She looks at him with unfocused eyes and stops her motions.

"What say you?"

"I want to take you to wife."

"Yes." He pulls her to his lips and kisses her deeply to seal their marriage agreement. He again starts to thrust up into her. He could die this day and be happy, but he wants to make her his wife first. He will only die by degrees tonight and be buried deep in her. Sansa buries her face in the crook of his neck to stifle her noises with her lips pressed against his heated flesh. She has a building feeling of preparing to fall off a cliff. She speeds up the movement of her hips, as does he. Moments later she cannot contain her sounds and sing out loudly and long for him.

"The most beautiful song I'll ever hear." He holds her tightly to him as he rolls them both over. He lifts his upper body from her and begins stroking into her more quickly, grunting with every thrust as he looks down on her. She still looks in a haze as he reaches his peak. This time he does remember to pull away from her cunt just in time to spill on the linen, instead of inside her womb.

He kisses Sansa deeply and rolls off of her. He moves over to the other side of the bed. She moves over with him and wraps herself around him, like a second skin. They fall asleep tangled in each other, sated and exhausted.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After the bath arrives in the morning, Sansa bathes first. She makes Sandor turn away while she bathes. So he uses the time to eat the meal the inn staff brought up. He bathes next in her abandoned bath. He gets heated by the idea of bathing in her bathwater. Washing himself in her scent. He watches her dress as he bathes. If they weren't both in the same room, he would once again try to take himself in hand. She did catch him at it last night and it worked out well; more than well. He had even remembered not to spill his seed into her again. He makes no attempt to hide his erect manhood from Sansa as he steps out of the tub. He uses the towel to dry his hair. Once he removes the towel, he sees Sansa is staring at him, well actually a part of him. He drops his towel over his stiff cock, like it is a cloak hook. That brings Sansa out of her trance.

"Like what you see little bird."

She turns away with a bashful giggle. "Shall I help you with that.

"I don't want you too sore to sit a saddle. Eat."

"Yes, my lord," not really listening to him. She stands and approaches him and removes his towel. His manhood springs up. It draws her attention like a moth to a flame, or a mouth to a delicious candied fig from Dorne. She takes him in hand and slides her hand up and down the length and girth of him. She pulls herself close to him and stands on her tip toes to whisper in his ear, "I will eat," she slide down the front of him and settles onto her knees. She kisses the head of his manhood and licks around the head. Then she looks up at him with a satisfied look on her face. "You are salty and sweet."

"Am I now? You don't have to do this. I can take care of my need."

She looks at him, "As can I." She lick the head again, this time while looking him in the eyes. She eyes involuntarily close as she continues kissing him. He is torn between getting Lady Sansa Fucking Stark off her knees and grabbing her by the hair and fucking into her mouth. She has one hand at the base of him and one on his upper thigh. He takes the later hand and moves it to his balls and encourages her to squeeze him their. He starts shallow thrusts into her mouth. She withdraws her mouth and licks him with the tip of her tongue. She then sucks on just the tip of him. This was so unexpected from her that he is quickly unmanned before he can pull away from her mouth.

"I didn't mean to spill in your mouth, little bird. How did you learn that trick?"

"I paid the pillow tax."

He lifts her from her knees and looks intensely into her eyes, "The what, and to whom?"

"We lay in bed and tell stories?"

"You and Littlefinger?

"No! Randa and Mya. Randa explained in detail the various ways to satisfy a man and remain a maid."

"If any man has made you give him a whore's service, I will kill him-twice.

"You are my first."

"I'd better damn well be your last. Wash your mouth and eat. Food."

"Yes, my lord." She licks her lips while looking him in the eye, and does as she is bid.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They make good time across the mountain to the next inn by riding on separate horses. Sandor could not spend another day with her arse bouncing up and down against his cock, without wanting to bend her over fallen log, or press her back up against a tree. She deserves better than that, so she will stay on her own damned horse.

By early evening of the second day, they make it to Longbow Hall. He decides to spend two nights there, since their trunks are at least a day and a half behind. They arrive and both take a long hot bath, well, by the time Sandor got the water, it was warm. They both ventured to the common room to eat their fill and listen for any news or gossip that could affect them. Snippets of conversation hit them. 'Mystery knight won tourney', 'Lord Baelish taking a trip...Dorne', 'Princess Myrcella lost an ear...Dorne...' Then the talk turns to more mundane local village talk.

They head back to their room to talk, plan, rest and relax. Sansa is openly upset about Myrcella, Sandor is inwardly distresses. He has known the Princess since her birth. Soldiers can be big, ugly brutes. Princesses and ladies are suppose to be beautiful and perfect. His and Sansa's moods darken at the news. Sansa has already learned that nothing is certain. Life and love can be taken away at any moment. When you are forced to play the game of thrones, those moments to lose everything, including your life, increase ten fold. The fact that they have been put together again is the will of the gods. Sansa insists on a wedding before they get on the boat.

Sandor helps Sansa out of her gown as they prepare for bed, then he strips down to his small clothes. "We should wait, little bird. You may regret marrying someone as low born as me. Once you are not running for your life, you may want someone better."

"You no longer want me? Is it because I have become wanton?" Her bottom lip begins to quiver.

"I'll always want you. I have wanted to protect you from the moment I saw you in the courtyard at Winterfell. Don't crying little bird."

"I have given myself to you, all of me, and you want to cast me aside."

"Never. I will not take you again until we wed." She continues to cry. He is at a loss of what to say to her to sooth her. He guides her to the bed and has her lay down. He gets a cloth with cool water and washes her face and kisses her forehead and then returns the wet cloth to the wash basin. He climbs in bed next to her and she moves to him and leaves no space. He turns to her and holds her, stroking her hair and back until she falls asleep.

When she wakes to the faintest of dawn, Sandor is still asleep. She props her chin up on his chest and stares at him, the way Lady used to do her, to force her awake. He wakes with a start and it greeted by large blue eyes staring intently at him. "Good morning little bird?" "We need to talk." "Fuck," slips out before he can stop it. "You are going to marry me before we get on that boat, and that is that." They go around in circles about the danger of giving their real names to be married in a sept and the lack of proof to join houses in front of a heart tree without witnesses. He finally relents and agrees to go to the sept on the way out of town, so that they will not linger where they can be easily found. With that agreement Sansa kisses Sandor on the lips then rolls over and goes back to sleep. Now Sandor is wide awake and semi-hard. He gets up and uses the privy and washes up, thankful that the water is cold. He dresses and heads down to the common area to find any more news and to ask where the sept is located.

He sits and eats and listens to bits of conversations 'Lord Baelish trapped ...' 'Which mountain?' 'The Mountain...Rides' 'Moon gates' 'a call to arms' 'all men and boys. He calmly orders a hot meal for Sansa and brings it up to the room. He wakes her with a kiss and tells her to eat, and that he is changing their plans. They will ride out this morning. "Why? What has happened?" "Baelish is trapped in his stolen sky castle. There is no sense in waiting for him. The sooner we leave, the more distance we put between you and danger. Eat while I pack." She does as she is bid, "Shall I dress for the wedding. I can change into another dress at the sept." "No wear your travel clothes. I don't want to lose time." "Find my maiden's cloak. It is in my larger bag." He ignores her request and continues packing. Sansa uses the privy and washes up; a process that takes her twice as long, though she is half his size. Once he has packed, he uses the time to find her bloody cloak in her bloody bag. He find a white wool cloak, but it is too dirty to be her maiden's cloak and too large for his delicate little bird. The faint smell hit him like a war hammer; wildfire. She emerges from the privy and he holds it up to her. "Why?" She stops in her tracks and looks at it. "I gave you a song and you left me with your cloak. I embroidered over the worst of the stains to disguise the cloak. I kept it hidden all this time and worked on it when I was alone and scared. I imagined I drew your strength from it." He sits on the bed, and says nothing. He examines the stitches in various places. A large direwolf on the back, a snarling black dog on one shoulder, a little chirping red bird on the other. It was scattered with snow flakes and red leaves, autumn wheat and swords, his old hound head.

"You took my cloak of protect a while ago, did you now little bird?"

She sits in his lap and curls up against him. He can feel her nod her head 'yes'. He kisses her temple and holds her tightly for a few moments, surprised his body his not responding how it usually does when she is sitting in his lap. He knows it's only a matter of time, so they need to break apart and leave the room. He pats her on the arse, and she understands she needs to stand.

The pair head to the stables. Sandor is tempted to head straight to the boat without stopping. As much as he has wanted to face his brother in a fight to the death, he would not risk putting his little bird in harms way. The time he would waste fighting with the little bird, they could have been wedded and bedded twice, so he follows the directions he was given to get to the sept, which is along the route to the port. Before they reach the sept Sandor sees an apothecary shop. He has Sansa wait just inside while he purchases some supplies for their trip; medicinal wines, ginger tea to sooth the stomach in case the boat does not agree with his little bird; and most importantly, moon tea. The only thing more reckless than running and hiding with a woman heavy with child, is traveling with a newborn. He packs the potions away and they are back on their way.

When they arrive Sandor escorts his lady in and finds the septon. They use their gods given names during the ceremony and the septon looks both shocked and horrified. Sandor removes her cloak and gives her his, smelling of warmth and protection and him. They exchange a chaste kiss that even the septon can see is laced with love and care. The septon fills out the records of their union, and they all sign them. Sansa holds onto her cherished copy, she rolls it to keep it. Rather than The Hound threatening everyone into silence, or even silencing the septon and the witnesses for good, Lady Clegane pays them well and kindly request that on behalf of House Arryn, her first cousin's house, they keep the couple's confidence.

They depart and continue towards the boat, which they reach at the shank of the day. They find out they missed the outgoing tide by an hour and Sandor curses himself for giving into Sansa's romantic inclinations. Damn him. Keeping the little bird safe should have come before making her happy. They were trapped there until the hour of the bat. Nothing more he could do now, but sit and watch and wait.

While they are waiting for the tide to turn and carry the ship out of the harbor, the wagon arrives that is carrying the rest of the little birds belongs. At least one positive exists in the world of trouble in which they exist. Sandor asks the wagon drivers of any news. He gets confirmation that the Mountain and a legion of men arrived at the Bloody Gate. The men received a raven not to take the main path back to the Vale.

Sandor was already done waiting for Littlefinger. He just doesn't tell his little bird. He is just waiting for the boat to be capable of safely taking the little bird away. She is his to keep safe now; and for a lifetime.

The tide was just turning to carry them out, when the distant thunder of multiple horses' hooves could be heard. He sends the little bird below deck to hide. As they pull away from the dock, he can see a giant in kingsguard armor arrive, accompanied by about twenty men. Littlefinger is set in front of the Mountain's giant horse. A poor hostage to exchange for his little bird, if that is his brother's plan. Gregor roughly pulls the little man down from the horse and onto his knees. He steps back and unsheathes his great sword. Lord Petyr Baelish's head now rests on the ground. He body is still kneeling, not knowing he is dead. Sandor stands and stares the monster down. Sandor has the captain steer the ship towards Dorne.

Once they are past the horizon line, and under the cover of darkness, Sandor has the captain steer towards Bravos. It is a much shorter trip than Dorne, and Littlefinger most likely gave up the Dorne destination to save his worthless life. By the time the crown's men secure a boat to chase them to Dorne, they will be well on their way to Bravos, before the misdirection is realized. From Bravos, who knows where they will go.

Of course Sansa does not cooperate on the moon tea. His body cannot cooperate on abstinence, especially in their close quarters; not after he has already tasted her. Neither of them tolerated him spilling his seed outside of her. Therefore, ten moons later they are on the run with a newborn; actually, more of a slow walk. Sandor still did not know where they would end up. Yet, in the nights, when he watches Sansa feed his son while he hones a razor's edge on his blades; he knows one day he would take her home to Winterfell. For him, his two loves are the only home he needs. His home is where those two rests their beautiful red heads.

**Author's Note:**

> My assigned genre was 'smut'. It is probably the easiest option for me besides 'fluff' or 'humor', because I have written scenes containing these before. I am thanking the gods, old and new, that I did not get newspaper-style. I don't even know what that is, until someone else did a beautiful job with it.
> 
> It is hard to find new ways to make explicit scenes compelling and original, but I will give it the old college try.
> 
> I am not a fan of Vale settings. Sansa being around Littlefinger and Harry the Heir makes my eyes twitch. As a Sansan fan I tend to not read Vale settings, unless I already follow the writer closely, and trust them to be respectful with sensitive materials, and properly tag possible triggers.


End file.
